Clouded Judgement
by Scarlett7
Summary: **A little Sick Dean added in ch.3!** Set in Season 9. Ezekiel is no longer possessing Sam and now Sam is starting to feel sick again. Was Sam not fully healed? And how much worse will he get? Nightmares and fever make for a very needy little brother! Lots of Sick Sam, Caring Dean and brotherly fluff. NO slash.
1. Chapter 1

Dean watched Sam warily out of the corner of his eye as he passed through the library on his way to the kitchen. He'd been watching him for the past hour or so since he'd seen Sam rubbing his eyes as he studied one of the volumes from the Men of Letters library. It was a telltale sign the kid had either been reading too long, or he was getting sick. And since it had happened within 5 minutes of opening the book...

Dean paused at the table. "I'm going to make some dinner. You want anything?"

Sam looked up and Dean's stomach sank. His eyes had that glassy, sleepy look. "No, I'm fine. Think I'm gonna turn in a little early, I'm kinda tired."

Dean nodded and reached out to feel Sam's forehead.

"Dean!" Sam shoved his hand away. "Can't a guy be tired?"

Dean shrugged and continued on to the kitchen. He made a sandwich and ate in silence, worry tugging at his thoughts. He always worried about Sam, but this was bigger than his usual worry. It had been almost two weeks since they'd "gotten rid of" Zeke. Dean pushed that particular thought to the back of his mind. All he was concerned about now, and all he had been concerned about since that day was whether or not Sam was really ok... whether or not Sam was fully healed, or if Sam would _stay_ healed. He's been watching for signs of decline in his brother and frankly, had almost been expecting it. He'd just been expecting it sooner.

But Sam had seemed fine. He had even seemed to be getting stronger. They'd handled a few simple cases, they were starting to really settle into the bunker, they'd gotten Cas to come back... everything seemed ok. And there's the problem, Dean thought sourly. When have things _ever_ been ok for us for very long?

He washed off his plate when he was finished eating and headed back towards his own room. It was too quiet, so he figured he'd turn in, too. Sam was asleep, Cas had gotten involved in some volunteer work and wouldn't be back for several days, Kevin was meeting up with Garth in a town few states over to follow up on a possible lead for further translation of the angel tablet, and unless Dean wanted to go talk to Crowley, he was all by himself.

But as he neared his room, he could hear Sam talking. He continued down the hall and stood outside his brother's door. It took only a few seconds for him to recognize the sound of Sam having a nightmare. He hesitated only a moment to see if Sam would just fall back to sleep, but as soon as he heard Sam let out a soft whimper, he stepped inside and knocked on the door frame.

"Sammy..."

Sam's eyebrows knitted together in fear as he tossed towards Dean's voice.

"Sam, wake up!" Dean stepped inside and turned on the light.

"D-Dean?" Sam squinted and looked around the room, dazed.

"Yeah. Hey... you awake? You ok?"

Sam sat up against the pillows rubbing his eyes and trying to still his ragged breathing. "Uh... yeah. Yeah, I'm awake. I was... I was dreaming... I guess."

"Yeah, no kidding," Dean said as he stood beside the edge of Sam's bed. "I could hear you all the way down the hall."

Sam pressed his palms up against his eyes and groaned.

Dean reached over and felt his forehead again. "You sure you're feeling ok, buddy?" he asked, his tone turning worried as it had at dinner time when Sam had announced he was going to bed at 6:00.

Sam swatted his hand away. "I'm fine, Dean. I'm just tired."

Dean scowled. "Yeah, you look like a million bucks right now."

"Shut up."

Dean shook his head turned towards the door. "All right, get some sleep then. Hey, you haven't heard from Kevin, have you? Thought he would have called by now."

Sam shook his head. "No. You know how he gets when he's on to something. He's probably wrapped up in whatever Garth found for him to work on."

"Mmm..." Dean hesitated before leaving. He looked back at Sam. He hadn't been able to tell from touching him if he had a fever or not. If he did, it wasn't very high. Yet. "Look, Sam. You gotta level with me here, man. Are you really ok?"

Sam's shoulders sagged a little and he sighed. "I feel kind of... off. But really, I think I'm just tired, ok?"

"Yeah, all right. I'll... see you in the morning then."

"'Night, Dean." Sam watched as his brother left the room, leaving the door open just a crack. He leaned back against the pillow and closed his eyes. He knew Dean was worried and he knew why. He tried not to think about how he was feeling. It's just exhaustion, he kept telling himself. He tried hard not to think about the fact that aside from not coughing up blood, he was starting to feel exactly the way he felt when the trials had started. No matter how many times he told himself this was nothing, a little voice somewhere inside kept telling him it was starting all over again and no matter what they did, he was just going to end up feeling like crap until his body just couldn't take it anymore.

And while that was bad enough, it was a different thought all together that was fueling his dreams. Once the idea had registered that he might be heading back down a path that could lead to his death, his mind continually drifted back to Cold Oak and what had happened to Dean after selling his soul. Once _that_ train of thought got started, it was pretty hard to stop it. That was an event that was seared into his mind and would never go away. He found most of the time it sat dormant in the back of his memory, but sometimes something would trigger it to come forward and he would have a hard time getting it stashed away again. Like right now.

He sighed wearily and closed his eyes, trying to think about anything besides hell hounds.

A few hours later, Sam sat bolt upright. He drew in a quivering breath, tensing as strong hands gripped his shoulders. "Dean?" it came out in a hoarse whisper as he took in his brother's face. He felt like total crap. He was definitely getting worse.

"Yeah, I'm right here... you were dreaming again." Dean had never made it back to his own room. He'd headed back to the library and basically paced between some open books on the table and checking on Sam.

Dreaming... Sam tried to still his breathing and stop shaking. Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming... he repeated to himself. Not real, not real... but it was real. It had happened. And what if it all happened again? The way he was feeling compounded with the horror of reliving that day, even in a dream, was more than Sam could take right then. He just felt so awful.

To Dean's complete shock, Sam dropped his head into his hands as a few tears escaped the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, Sam, hey,hey-hey... no, Sammy-" Dean took Sam's face and tilted it up to meet his gaze. "What is all this? Huh?" Dean's voice was soft as he thumbed a tear off Sam's cheek.

Sam ducked his head to avoid his brother's scrutiny. "I- I don't-" he shook his head, unable to get the rest of the sentence out.

Dean still had hold of his face and he began to feel Sam's forehead again. Sam was trembling. "Kiddo, you're shaking. And burning up. You've definitely got something going on here."

As Dean pressed his hand up against Sam's cheek to gauge his temperature, Sam leaned into his touch slightly and closed his eyes. That's when Dean knew he was not going to get anymore stubborn-Sammy attitude. When the kid would start leaning into him instead of pushing him away, he was really a mess. Sam's breath hitched as he tried to choke back the sudden onslaught of tears.

Dean shook his head, pulling Sam towards him and the minute he did, Sam fell into his chest, trying with everything he had but failing not to let out a sob as he clutched Deans t-shirt. Dean rubbed his back gently and whispered to him. "Ok, it's ok, Sammy... it's ok. You're all right."

Dean tried to sound convincing as he gently rested his chin on top of Sam's head. He was trying, but the truth was, he was terrified. It was starting all over again. He knew it, and he could tell Sam knew it too. This was just how things went in the world of a Winchester. He ran his hand gently over Sam's hair, feeling the tears soaking through his t-shirt and the heat radiating from his little brother's body.

After a few minutes he could feel Sam start to settle down a little. His breathing evened out and he only shivered a little every now and then.

"S-sorry..." Sam said as he slowly began to pull himself together. He leaned away from Dean, keeping his head down and wiping his eyes. His energy was completely gone. He could barely stay upright anymore . "Don' feel good..."

Dean rubbed his arm lightly and tilted his head, trying to meet Sam's eyes. "Yeah, I know you don't..."

"I'm just... I'm tired of feeling sick..."

"I know, Sammy."

Sam finally looked up at Dean, his watery hazel eyes rimmed with red as he voiced what they both had been fearing. "I feel... kind of... kind of like before...like during the Trials." and I'm scared that this is all happening all over again and I don't know if I can do this and big brother, please make it better...

Dean heard every unspoken word as he lifted the covers up a bit and motioned for Sam to lie down. Sam obeyed, sliding weakly down until his head was resting on the pillow.

"What's it feel like?"

"Headache, tired. Everything's hurting and I feel nauseous."

"No coughing, though?" Dean asked, rubbing slow, gentle circles on Sam's stomach.

"No," Sam said, closing his eyes and letting out a small appreciative sigh.

"This feel ok?"

"Mmm." Sam nodded.

"Good. We're gonna figure this out, little brother. We will. You're gonna be fine."

Sam opened his eyes again, and Dean did not like the look of doubt he saw in Sam's face . He began to realize that he was going to have a tough time convincing Sam when he was having trouble believing it himself. What if he'd gotten rid of Zeke too soon? What if there was just no fixing the damage that had been done from the trials? Maybe no matter what they did, Sam's body would always return to the damaged state it was in at the church and continue to decline until...

Nope, Dean told himself. Not an option. He swallowed hard and looked down at the bed. "Sam," he said carefully, stifling every last bit of worry he had before looking up to meet Sam's eyes. "We _will_. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

He smiled a little as the look on Sam's face grew more trusting.

Sam nodded then, his eyelids drooping.

Dean reached up and pushed Sam's hair off his forehead. "Close your eyes and get some rest. You'll feel better if you get some sleep. I'm gonna go get you a drink and something for the fever all right? You close your eyes and I'll be right back."

Sam did as he was told and Dean went to gather his medical arsenal.

He wandered back to Sam's room about ten minutes later with Tylenol, Gatorade, some Saltines, a bowl of water and a washcloth. He set everything down on the nightstand and pulled a chair up beside Sam's bed. He only intended to close his eyes for a minute.

He woke an hour later to a rustling sound. Sam was tossing and turning in his bed. Then the whimpering started. And then-

"Dean! DEAN, NO!"

"SAM!"

Sam gasped, his eyes opened as he looked frantically around trying to take in his surroundings which had suddenly changed. The hellhounds. He knew they were coming, he just couldn't see them. Or were they? Had Dean made the deal yet? His mind was so clouded with sleep and fever that he couldn't process all the thoughts rolling around in his head. Dean. Dean! He had to warn him- or save him, or-

"Buddy, _what_ are you dreaming about?" Dean asked quietly, sitting in front of him and holding him by the shoulders.

"Dean..." Sam tried to yell, but it came out as more of a strangled whimper. He tried to get the words out, but he couldn't still the panic rising in his chest long enough to formulate a coherent sentence. "Dean, don't- you can't- I"

"Sam... Sammy calm down, it's ok, come on. Deep breaths, kid, deep breaths-" Dean kept his voice as calm as he could as he held on to Sam. He gripped the back of Sam's neck and held on to one arm while trying to anchor his gaze, but Sam's eyes were all over the room. He was radiating heat like a furnace and clinging desperately to Dean's shirt as tears streamed out of his glassy, red rimmed eyes.

Sam swallowed back a sob, almost choking on tears as he just kept talking over his brother, frantically _begging_ him not to go through with the deal. "No- Dean, don't let them take you- you can't go-"

Dean pulled him into his chest then and cradled his head in the crook of his neck, holding him steady as Sam trembled and sobbed on his shoulder. "Sammy..." he whispered. "Little brother, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you... Slow it down, buddy. Deep breaths. I'm here, I've got you."

"I don't want them- t-to take you... I'm so sorry, Dean. Please don't..."

"Saamm...shhhh... Nobody's gonna take me anywhere. We're safe... ok?" Dean didn't know what to do other than to keep holding him and whispering to him. He forced back his own tears as best he could. Every soft sob that came from Sam ripped right through his heart. "Oh, buddy... we gotta get this fever down."

Eventually, Sam seemed to settle a bit, or perhaps he had just run out of energy. "C'mon, Sammy... you're ok. Just a bad dream. It's all right."

Sam's breathing began to even out, and Dean could feel him taking careful, measured breaths between sniffles.

"That's it... that's my boy," Dean murmured. "Just relax. You're ok." Dean let him sit there for a few minutes to regain his composure before pressing him further for what he needed to know. "You ok, now? Huh?"

Sam nodded, but couldn't lift his head from his brother's shoulder.

"We gotta get some Tylenol in you, bring this fever down." Dean cringed inwardly, knowing that if this was what he feared, Tylenol wouldn't really help.

Sam just breathed.

"Sammy...You never answered my question..."

Sam swallowed and tried to sit back. He managed to lift his head about an inch before it fell back where it was. "Mmm?"

Dean gave him a gentle squeeze. "Just stay put, you're all right. Your dream, what was it about?"

There was a long pause during which Dean wondered if he would have to fight for an answer, and Sam tried not to let the panic overwhelm him as he remembered dreaming about hellhounds coming for his brother. Again. He sighed, knowing Dean was waiting for an answer and honestly, Sam was too tired for anything but the truth.

"About you...and when... the h-hellhounds..." Dean felt Sam shudder and swallow back more tears that threatened to start up again.

"Hey, hey... easy. All right..." Dean tightened his grip on Sam and ran his hand over Sam's head. "Sam, why are you thinking about that? That was a long time ago."

Sam made a soft strangled sound, like he was trying to say something but couldn't. But after a minute and a couple of breaths, he asked, "What? Do you think I'm... just going to forget that?"

Dean rubbed his back. "No, Sam. I know you're not going to forget it." His voice was tinged with regret. "But why are you dreaming about that now? I'm fine, that's all over, Sammy."

Sam shook his head his voice breaking. "But what if..."

"Ok, let's stop right there," Dean interrupted, suddenly realizing where the conversation was headed. He gently lifted Sam off his shoulder, moved back so he was facing him and cupped his chin. "Look at me."

Sam reluctantly met his brother's gaze. Dean buried the anguish he felt seeing tears in those eyes as he continued. "You're going to be fine, little brother. Ok? We're gonna get you through this, whatever it is."

"What if-" The puppy dog eyes were out.

"No," Dean almost had to break Sam's gaze. That look just killed him sometimes. "Sammy, 'what if' is not going to happen. Now, listen- this is what we're gonna do right now. We're gonna bring your temperature down, and you're going to get a little rest. Tomorrow we'll see how you're doing and we'll take it from there, ok?"

Puppy dog eyes still there... what else does he need? Ah... "And I'll stay right here with you, ok?"

Sam finally looked down and nodded. This meltdown had taken more energy than he had to give.

Dean reached over and wet the cloth in the bowl of water. "We're also gonna clean up this face... all right?." Dean wiped Sam's eyes with the cold water. Sam just leaned into him and didn't fight it. "That's it... feel a little better?"

Sam nodded.

"Ok. Let's get you medicated and off to dreamland. The _good_ dreamland, though, got it? No more of this hellhound crap." He handed Sam the pills and the Gatorade and again, Sam took it without argument.

Dean pulled the covers up over his brother and propped himself up on the pillows beside him. He wasn't too surprised when Sam rolled over and curled up right next to him. Dean lifted his arm and Sam pressed his head up against Dean's side. Dean lowered his arm to Sam's shoulder and rubbed his back affectionately. He shifted a bit trying to get comfortable. "Sammy, we gotta get you a different mattress, dude. How do you sleep in here?"

"Don' know... jus' do..." Sam mumbled.

"Do you want to move to my room for tonight? Sam?"

There was no answer.

Dean smiled sadly and ran his hand gently through Sam's hair. "No more bad dreams, ok, Sammy? Just sleep. Everything's gonna be all right."

I'm getting so good at lying, I'm starting to scare myself, Dean thought.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the night passed a little more smoothly. Sam slept for a couple hours, then woke somewhat startled, but not completely freaked out which Dean counted as a plus.

Dean was dozing up against the headboard. He sleepily opened his eyes upon hearing Sam's quick intake of breath. He moved his hand up and ruffled Sam's hair. "Hey, buddy," he whispered. "You ok?"

Sam blinked at him in the dim light that leaked in from the hallway. "Dean?"

Dean rubbed his shoulder. "I'm still here. Bad dream?"

Sam nodded and swallowed, looking confused and completely exhausted. "Why are... am I sick?"

"Yeah, you're sick, kiddo... c'mon, it's ok, Sammy. Just go back to sleep." Dean guided Sam's head back down to his shoulder and yawned, keeping his arm around him. "I'm right here."

He felt Sam relax and curl in closer beside him. His heart sank as the sleep began to clear from his mind a bit, and he remembered the gravity of their situation. He mustered his confidence for Sam. "That's it... you're ok. Just rest."

Sam stirred a couple more times that night, but settled right back down once he realized Dean was still beside him. Dean dosed him up with more Tylenol each time he woke up if enough time had passed. The first indication he had that things might actually be improving was Sam giving him a sleepy bitch-face around 4 in the morning when he suggested the most recent dose of Tylenol.

At around 8:30, Dean woke up from his own dream. He was being crushed to death under a pile of rocks in the hot sun of the Sahara Desert, and bugs were crawling up the side of his hip. He woke with a gasp, blinking with confusion when he found he could still barely breathe. Sam was sleeping soundly with his head and shoulders on Dean's chest and his arm stretched over him, still radiating heat. Then Dean felt the vibration in his pocket from his cell phone. With a groan, he tried to gently move his gigantic brother off of him.

"Uuugghh... Sammy..." It was like trying to move a tranquilized bear. Once he had extracted himself from the tangle of Little Brother, the first few deep breaths were a bit painful as Dean stretched out his cramped muscles and slightly compressed ribcage.

Sam barely stirred.

The cell phone buzzed again. He sighed heavily, having had about 45 minutes of actual sleep. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, then opened it.

"Hang on, Kevin," he whispered.

He got up carefully, feeling Sam's forehead before leaving to take the call. He still felt warm, but not dangerously so. And he was sleeping a little more sprawled out than he had been. When Sam was really, really sick, he slept curled in a tight ball like a dead bug. Dean was cautiously pleased. He walked quietly into the hall and brought the cell phone up to his ear.

"Hey, Kevin. Where ya been? Haven't heard from you in a few days," he said, heading towards the kitchen.

"I know, I got the flu! Got it pretty bad."

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. "The flu- wait. What?"

"Yeah, I couldn't get out of bed the past couple days-"

"The flu... " Dean repeated, processing.

"Yeah, I started feeling funny the day I left your place, and by the time I got over the state line I couldn't stay awake. I'm just meeting up with Garth now, but it sounds like the lead is going to be a bust."

"The flu! That is _awesome_!"

"What? No, it was not awesome at all," Kevin said indignantly. "That was like the sickest I've ever been! I could barely move!"

Dean was laughing. "Sorry, sorry, I know. I don't mean... are you ok?"

"Yeah, _now_. But why I called was because I just wanted to tell you that... I, uh, kind of ran up a bit of a tab on the card you gave me. I had to stay over at a motel for a few days before I was able to meet with Garth, and when I could finally eat again I was still too tired to get up-"

"Room service and the million dollar mini-fridge?"

"Yeah... sorry. Do you know how much they charge for a freaking water?"

Dean laughed. "The flu. I can't believe it. Kevin, you do what ever you need to do. Just feel better and get your ass back here when you can. Listen, I'll call you later, I gotta take care of something, ok?"

"Yeah, uh...ok. Thanks, Dean."

Dean grinned and hung up. He continued on to the kitchen for some breakfast and some juice to bring back to Sam.

He let Sam sleep for another hour, but then decided he'd better get some more Tylenol into the kid and keep the fever down. Plus, he was looking forward to telling Sam it was only the flu. This was going to be fun.

Sam was sprawled face down on his bed, long legs tangled in the sheets. Dean put a hand gently on Sam's back. "Sammy?"

Sam stirred and turned to stare sleepily up at Dean.

"Hey, Sammy. You ready for some more medicine?"

Sam nodded and dragged himself up against the pillows.

Dean handed him a coupe of pills and a glass of juice.

Sam swallowed the pills and took a drink as Dean masked a grin. "So... uh, I just talked to Kevin. And I... I think we figured out what's wrong with you." Dean's stomach was flipping as he tried not only to stay deadly serious, but also to keep from laughing.

"Ok," Sam said as he put on his mask of calm, but Dean could tell he was a little freaked.

Oh, this kid is so easy to mess with when he's sick, Dean thought. He took the glass out of Sam's hand and set it on the night stand. He ran a hand over his face and studied the floor as he pretended to think about how to break the news to Sam. Then he sat down on the edge of Sam's bed and regarded him with the most serious, concerned look he could muster. He wondered for a moment if he could drum up a few tears. That would just ice the cake... "I don't... I don't know how to tell you this, Sammy."

"What?" Sam's eyebrows rose up behind his bangs.

Dean shook his head again, looking away from Sam, mostly because he was about to lose it, but it also provided the dramatic effect he was going for.

"Dean, whatever it is," Sam said sounding frantic, "whatever happens, you have to promise me-"

Dean held up his hand to stop Sam's rambling, but Sam was having none of it.

"No! You promise me _right now_, you're not going to do anything _stupid_, Dean."

Ouch. Figures, Dean thought. He's about to hear about a horrible illness and the kid's worried more about me than himself. "When have I _ever_ done anything stupid?" Dean asked, trying to sound as offended as he possibly could.

Sam stammered, clearly confused. By what though, Dean wasn't sure. Whether it was choosing from the long list of stupid things Dean had done or trying to figure out why this dreadfully grave discussion had suddenly taken on a different tone, he couldn't be certain. Probably a little bit of both, he decided.

"Look," Dean said picking up one of the pillows, fluffing it slightly and forcing a look of over dramatized sorrow. "I've given it some thought. It's bad, Sammy... I- I think it might be best if I just... if I just put you out of your misery."

Sam stared at him as Dean slowly raised the pillow and gently began to lower it over Sam's face. Annoyed, Sam swatted the pillow away weakly. "Dean, what the hell?"

A tiny bit of a grin broke through Dean's facade. "What, you don't think I'd really do it? It's for your own good, bro. And probably mine."

Sam just gave him one of his looks and Dean broke out into laughter. He flopped down on the bed so he was lying across Sam's legs and propped himself up on his elbow.

Sam just continued to stare at him. Dean could tell he was completely exhausted... probably too exhausted to really understand that something was going on from the look of almost hurt confusion on his face. Dean decided he'd better wrap up his game. "You've got no sense of humor, you know that?"

"Sense of – what? Dean-" Sam stammered.

Dean held up a hand. "All right, all right. You want to know what's up? You, my gigantic friend, have- are you ready for this? The flu."

Sam's eyes widened. "What?"

Dean nodded. "The fluuuu," he whispered.

Sam regarded him suspiciously for a moment. "How do you-"

"Because _Kevin_ has the flu. And you two spent a whole day together cooped up in that library sharing research and apparently, germs right before he left. You have the flu, Sam. It's just the flu!"

Sam's expression neutralized into something Dean couldn't read, but he could see the slight and sudden flush in his cheeks. "Uhh... oh." There was a long pause and then Sam's eyes narrowed as he grabbed the pillow away from Dean and hit him with it. "You're a friggin' jerk!"

Dean threw his head back and laughed out loud. When he finally looked back at Sam, Sam was biting his lip and peering at Dean from under the floppy hair that was hanging in front of his eyes. He was smiling sheepishly and shaking his head. "I feel like a total idiot."

"Ohhhhh, Sammy." Dean said, still laughing as he slapped a hand down on Sam's knee. And something inside of Sam warmed at the sound of his brother's laughter. He suddenly realized how deeply he had missed it.

"If I wasn't so relieved," Dean confessed, "I'd run with this a while just to mess with you, but the truth is, we both headed straight to Panic Street at the first sign of trouble. We did not pass Go and we will not be collecting our $200." It was true. Part of him knew it would have been the easiest thing in the world to let Sam believe that he was the only one that had over-reacted. But Dean had panicked too. He had not even entertained for a second that this could be anything other than a life threatening disaster.

Sam covered his face, somewhat mortified, but relieved that Dean was sharing this burden instead of poking fun at him. "We totally freaked. Kind of... not like us, huh?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I don't know. I guess we get so used to things going horribly wrong. And, these last few months, I don't know, they just... sucked. I think we earned a free pass, don't you?"

Sam looked up at him gratefully.

"Now, I'll be honest. I'm still nervous about letting my guard down, but I think maybe we are out of the woods with you. I think you're gonna be ok, Sam." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. "Man. Who would have ever thought that a Winchester could have something as simple as the flu?"

Sam grinned at him then. Full on dimpled grin, and Dean's heart melted.

"I still feel like crap."

"Yeah, I'm sure you do, but the Tylenol's working. Your fever's not gone, but it's down. Tylenol didn't work on 'Trial Sickness'."

Sam yawned and ran a hand sleepily through his hair. "No, it definitely didn't."

"Now, all joking aside," Dean warned, standing up and nudging Sam down to the pillow he was putting behind his head. "The flu can be dangerous,"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, for old people and babies."

"You're a baby." Dean stated, matter-of-factly.

Sam punched him. "_You're_ a baby!"

"Ow!" Dean laughed and pinned Sam's arms easily to the bed. Too easily, he thought ruefully. The kid was wiped out. "_You_ are the baby brother. And you need to be careful with this. The flu can be dangerous for people with weakened immune systems and we don't _know_ that you're back to normal yet."

Sam's eye lids drooped and he let out a bit of a laugh, his energy clearly gone. "Fine."

"Oh, see, now I know this is serious," Dean said standing up again. "You never give in that quickly."

Sam just looked at him through half closed eyelids. "Can' keep my eyes open 'nymore..." he slurred.

Dean smiled and pushed his hair back. "Don't. I'm going to go get you some more Gatorade and some crackers, ok? Sam?"

Sam was already out. He slept peacefully for most of the day.

* * *

Writer's note:

A couple more chapters to go... I'm going to take this into the Christmas season because I would enjoy seeing another Supernatural Christmas episode. Would love to hear your thoughts if you have a moment to leave a comment! Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

Dean had lied down on the couch, intending to just close his eyes for a moment, but he didn't open them again until nearly 4 in the afternoon. He woke with a start, realizing he'd fallen asleep and that he hadn't checked on Sam in hours. It was only the flu, but the terror and despair from earlier was still lingering in the corners of his mind as he rubbed his eyes and made his way down the hall to Sam's room. The door was still ajar and he quietly stepped inside. "Sammy?" he whispered.

Sam sleepily opened his eyes. "Hey,"

"Hey, yourself," Dean said softly as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "You doin' ok? You been up long? I'm sorry... I fell asleep."

Sam grinned, his eyes only half opened. "Good. You needed it. 'm fine. C'n take care of m'self."

"Yeah. I'm sure you could run a marathon right now and then stop off to pick up groceries on the way home." Dean felt his cheeks and forehead.

Sam laughed weakly and closed his eyes for a moment, deciding it wasn't worth the effort to try to stop Dean's mothering.

"Tylenol time for you, kiddo. Fever's getting up there again."

Sam just held out his hand and took the pills Dean offered.

"Atta boy. No arguing." Dean smiled.

Sam just rolled his eyes.

"All right, you gotta be starving. I'm gonna go make us something to eat... I'll figure out something easy on your stomach, but I think you'd better eat something."

As Dean stood to go, Sam's looked pleadingly at his brother, like he wanted to say something. Dean sat back down and studied his expression. "What do you need, Sammy?" he asked, laying his hand gently on Sam's stomach. As soon as he started the light, careful circles, Sam's expression softened and his eyes closed again.

"Ohhh... ok," Dean laughed.

Sam let out a quiet, contented sigh but didn't open his eyes as Dean continued gently rubbing his stomach.

"You know, you can just ask me if you need something," Dean said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Sam opened one eye and looked at him suspiciously. Dean just gazed back at him, his face full of sincerity, but Sam wasn't sure he was buying it. "Yeah. Asking my big brother for a tummy rub won't get me years of ribbing," he answered weakly.

Dean grinned sheepishly. "Look, Free Pass on this one, remember? Anything you want, Sammy. And I promise I'll be good. Until you're better, of course, then we'll go back to me kicking your ass, ok? C'mon, I'm serious. I just want you to feel better so you let me know if you need something, got it?"

Sam smiled, gratefully and closed his eyes again, sinking back into the pillow. Dean kept rubbing for a few more minutes.

"There. That feel a little better?" he asked after a while.

Sam nodded. "Thanks."

"It would probably help if you ate something, don't you think?"

Sam looked doubtful.

"Think you could try?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah, not too much, though."

Dean spent the rest of the evening making tomato and rice soup and grilled cheese for Sam, changing the bedding while Sam showered, and making sure the nightstand was well stocked with crackers, drinks and more Tylenol.

When Sam came out of the bathroom, he smiled at the sight of his bed all made up and the nightstand all put back together.

Dean pulled back the covers and motioned for Sam to get in. "C'mon, back to bed."

Sam complied and didn't try to stop Dean from tucking him in. He felt pretty awful and he'd decided he was going to put this Free Pass to good use.

"Dean," Sam started weakly as Dean pulled the covers up to his chin and felt his forehead for the hundredth time that day.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Thanks... thanks for doing all of this."

Dean shook his head. "Just doin' my job, Sammy. Just want you to feel better."

Sam looked at him, his eyes welling slightly. "I know. And I do. I do feel better, Dean. Better than I've felt in... in a long time."

Dean smiled at him and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Yeah... well, you'd better get some more sleep, or you're gonna feel like crap again."

Sam smiled and closed his eyes, knowing full well that Dean understood exactly what he was talking about.

Two days later, on the winter solstice, Sam was starting to feel human again. He took a few naps during the day and kept things low key, but otherwise, he was definitely on the road to recovery. Kevin returned that afternoon, disappointed in the lack of information he had obtained during his trip. Cas had called to say he'd be back the next day... and Dean was cranky as all get out. When he disappeared into his room in the middle of the day, Sam knew what was coming.

The next morning, Dean didn't show up for breakfast. When he hadn't made an appearance by eleven o'clock, Sam stopped by his room.

He poked his head inside Dean's door. "Dean?"

There was a low moan from underneath a lump of covers.

Sam cringed and stepped into the room. "Uh oh... Dean, you ok?"

Dean groaned and rolled over to face Sam. "No."

Sam tipped his head sympathetically. "Sorry, dude."

"You did this to me."

Sam laughed softly and sat on the edge of Dean's bed. He reached over to feel Dean's forehead. "No, you did this to yourself. You didn't have to keep coming into my room and breathing in my germs."

"M' job..." he mumbled, trying weakly to push Sam's hand away.

Sam chuckled. "I know. Oh, man," Sam cringed again, feeling the sides of Dean's face, despite the swatting hands making pathetic attempts to stop him. "Time for some Tylenol."

"...hate you."

Sam grinned. "I hate you too, bro."

Dean's face softened a little, hearing the true meaning behind the words. He closed his eyes again after swallowing the pills Sam handed him. "Everything hurts."

"I know."

"Everything. Even my hair hurts...feel sick..." Dean said, miserably.

"I know..." Sam reached over and placed his hand gently on Dean's stomach.

Dean flinched slightly at the touch.

"Easy, this won't hurt..." Sam said as he started to rub slow, gentle circles. "You did this for me when I was sick, remember? This feels good, right?"

Dean's eyes were closed again and he sighed. "...such a girl."

"What happened to the Free Pass?"

"I said till you were vertical again."

"You said till I was feeling better... I still feel pretty wiped out."

"Baby."

"Fine. I'll stop if you don't like it..." Sam said warned knowingly as he held his hand still.

Dean opened his eyes again and looked pleadingly at Sam.

"That's what I thought," Sam laughed and started rubbing again.

Dean closed his eyes, letting out a soft little moan.

"So I'm gonna guess you don't want any breakfast."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

"I figured. So, hey... Kevin and I are going to go get a Christmas tree after lunch. Kid really wants to do Christmas, so I figured we could throw some decorations up. I'll probably see if Cas wants to go if he gets back in time. Will you be ok by yourself for an hour or so this afternoon?"

What Sam expected was apathy. Or an eye roll. Or some retort about Dean being a grown up and perfectly capable of staying by himself. What he got was Dean opening his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows and giving a full on puppy dog face worthy of Sam Winchester himself. "You're going without me?" he practically whined.

Sam just stared at him for a second, his mouth hanging open in surprise. "Uh... well, we uh... we're getting pretty close to the big day, here... I don't know how many trees they even have left. I mean, I guess we could wait, but... you _want_ to go?"

Dean flopped back on the pillow. "Dude, just go. I don't care."

"Dean, I didn't..." he stopped and thought for a moment. He had not been prepared for this reaction _at all_. And he hated the idea that Dean was even a little bit excited about this but was getting left out. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be going outside for a while. Look, _I'm _not even totally better yet. I told Kevin I'd need another nap before we left. We're just going to go to the stand down the road, I don't even feel like going outside for very long, but I know you don't want Kevin strapping a tree to the top of your car without supervision-"

"What?!"

Sam held up his hands grinning sheepishly. "Don't panic... we've done enough panicking already, don't you think?"

Dean glared at him.

"I've got it all figured out, dude. Calm down. Tarp, ties, she'll be fine."

Dean was still scowling, but Sam could tell he still just felt left out of the fun.

"Look, how about this. I'll text you the pictures of the ones we're looking at and you can have veto power, ok?"

Dean's expression softened a little. "So I can make sure you're not going to bring home some ugly piece of crap?"

"Yes. We will text you during the whole thing."

"Can I pick it out?"

Sam forcibly hid his shock. "Yes. We'll show you some good ones and you can pick."

Dean was still glowering a little.

"And we'll get the tree today and set it up, but we'll do all the decorating tomorrow. We can make a nest of blankets for you out on one of the sofas and maybe by tomorrow you'll be feeling a little better, huh? What do you think?"

Dean closed his eyes. "I think I'll probably be dead by tomorrow."

Sam couldn't hold back a laugh. "You'll be fine. It just _feels_ like you're dying."

"Do you think we could give this to Crowley?"

Sam laughed again and shook his head. "Seriously, man. I'm totally sorry. I really didn't think you'd want to go-"

Dean waved his hand in dismissal. "Nah... just go. Have fun. But I want to see pictures before you buy anything. And if there's a scratch on my car-"

Sam nodded, hands in the air. "I know, I know, heads will roll." He grinned, pleased that Dean seemed satisfied with the texting idea. "All right, I'm gonna bring you some medicine and you get some more sleep. I'll wake you up before we leave."

Later that day, Dean awoke to the sound of arguing outside his door. Castiel had returned.

"No, Cas. You've got to stay out. We don't need you getting sick too. He's fine-"

"But-"

"_No_, Cas."

"Hey, Cas," Dean called weakly.

"Dean?" The distress in Castiel's voice was clear.

"I'm fine, Cas. Listen to Sammy, ok? Seriously, you _do not_ want to get this."

There was a long pause and then the sound of footsteps slowly shuffling away from the door.

Sam came in with a huff of annoyance as he glanced over his shoulder to be sure no one was following him. He was carrying a tall glass of ginger ale, a plate of crackers and a heated neck pillow. "Ok, this aught to keep you good till we get back. And I've got one more thing- hold on..." He ducked quickly out of the room.

"Where am I going to go?" Dean muttered sarcastically.

Sam returned a few moments later with a steaming mug of hot cocoa with a candy cane sticking out of it. He did not miss the brief moment when Dean's face lit up, even though the scowl was pulled back in place almost immediately.

"I had Kevin run to the store while I was napping. I figure he owes us for bringing The Plague. Real whipped cream, dude." He set the mug down on the bedside table and crouched down beside the bed. "I know you might not feel up having it now, but I thought I'd bring you some anyhow. Just in case. There's plenty more for when you're feeling better, ok? You don't have to drink it if you don't want it-"

Dean's face softened, finally, and he gave Sam a little smile. He could tell Sam was feeling guilty.

Sam grinned back, all dimples and then the last of Dean's scowl was gone.

"So, you ok? You need anything else?"

"No."

"Ok, take more Tylenol in like half an hour, all right? Here's your phone, I'm gonna turn the ringer all the way up in case you fall asleep-"

Dean rolled his eyes and waved Sam off. "I'm good. Now go get that kid his tree. And remember-" he held up his phone. "Veto power- you promised."

Sam grinned. "I know. I promised. Ok, we'll be back in a little while."

"AND, my car-"

"I _promise_... ok? We won't be long."


End file.
